I Never Knew Anything
by andallthat
Summary: Spain pays a visit to England's house, hoping to just tease him a little. But things soon turn for the worse and as England is depressed, will Spain be able to help him? USUK, Spamano. SpUK if you so desire to interpret it that way.


Spain stood there, stunned beyond all words.

He wasn't quite sure how this had come about, one moment he was standing there, taunting and teasing the Englishman like he did so often, and the next, England lay curled up on the couch, clutching a bottle to his chest and ranting on about being alone.

Normally, he couldn't read the situation worth a shit, but this time it showed bright as day that he had said something that he shouldn't have- that he had crossed a line that should've been left alone.

Maybe if he thought through what happened not even 10 minutes before, he might come across an answer…

_Per suggestion from France, the Spaniard had decided to go over to England's house. Release the desire to taunt someone out on him- after all, pretty much everyone (in Europe at least, plus America) loved picking on him._

_When he had reached his house, getting in was barely a problem. Spain just had to ring the doorbell, wait for England to answer, and then walk in. It was simple as that- and that's exactly what he did._

_Soon enough, the two were squabbling at each other as usual. But of course- the Spanish nation didn't mean anything he was saying, he just liked picking on the Brit, and he figured it was the same for the other, except… without liking being picked on though._

_Somehow, he and the Englishman had gotten into the subject of sex, and with this, sexuality._

"_How do you know who I fuck, huh?" the Spaniard shouted, pausing slightly before continuing, "Yeah. That's what I thought!"_

"_We discussed this the last time you came over here for no reason! You were bragging about how many __**guys **__you'd had sex with! Specifically during our pirating days! And what about Romano, huh?"_

"_Weeeeeell, how do you know Romano isn't a girl? Yeah. Think about that!"_

"_You specifically said, 'I am homo for him'. So unless __**you're**__ a girl, I'm pretty sure he's a guy!"_

"_I only have homosexual feelings for him. Does that mean I've ever done him? NO. So shut up, __**you**__ homo."_

"_Pffft! Knowing your record, I'd say it's pretty damn likely that you have! And at least __**I **__fully admit to being gay! I'm not stuck in the bloody closet!"_

"_Okay, fine! I admit it, I'm a homo. But those feelings for you were certainly nothing. Like I said, I'm not called the country of passion for no reason!"_

"_Ha! I never thought you had any feelings for me to begin with!"_

"_I don't. And neither does _América!_ Yeah, I went there!"_

Oh.

So that was it.

Well, despite now remembering the reason for the Brit's drastic change into depression mode, he still didn't have any idea what he was supposed to do. Did he just slip out the front door, pretending he'd never been there, and leave England all alone, depressed, and drinking in his house? Or did he stay and attempt to comfort him, only to be stuck there without a clue as to what he was actually supposed to do **to **comfort the other nation.

"I-I alreadyknow he doesnloveme, thank'you. S'really nothard to figure out…" came the quiet response from the couch, after he had already gone to the cabinet and gotten himself drunk in less than 5 minutes.

Yeah… It would probably be better to stay. Even though he still had no idea what exactly he was supposed to do.

"Oh... uhh..._s-si_._..?_" Spain muttered, confused. Was that what he was supposed to say?

England continued, not making any notion that he had heard the other's comment, "I-isnotmehfault. He-hes'the one who… wholeftm'eh…"

He wasn't going to lie, seeing England depressed like this was slightly amusing, but that wasn't the point. He should probably at least _try _to stop him from being depressed… right?

"_Inglaterra_, why… why don't we just have a seat over here, and… talk about it?" he asked, slowly making his way over to the couch the Brit was currently curled up on.

England sniffled, grabbing a pillow and hugging onto it for dear life. "Sha-shaddup! You don'know anythin'. W-WhywouldIwanntalk'boutanythin' with _y-you!_" he grabbed the almost empty rum bottle, finishing it off, "Allyou wanna do… all_everyone_ wants'ta do is… is laughatme an-an insult me!"

The Brit dropped the pillow to drunkenly walk back to the liquor cabinet and grab another bottle, nearly dropping it multiple times before actually grabbing a firm hold on it and opening it up.

This time, Spain actually walked up to him and grabbed him on the wrist, leading him back to the couch before taking the bottle away. "No, no, _Inglaterra_~ Just… just tell me what's wrong, _si? _I'm sure _América_ loves you…"

Immediately after grabbing the bottle away, a hand reached over for it, "H-Hey! Givetha back! It'sm'only friend!" England soon had swiped it from Spain and hugged the bottle to his chest. "An—an you don'eedta'know! Youdon care anyway—An'hedoesnlove'me!Heleft-me anhe_hates_me, an-an-…"

The Brit took another swig of the bottle, only to have the Spaniard take it away from him once again, and set it down on the table in front of the couch. "Nono~!" he said, trying to tame the other by patting him on the back, "_Inglaterra_, just calm down. I'm sure he loves you… surely?"

"God- woul'dja stop that-.." England reached for the bottle once more, this time seriously angering the Spaniard; would he ever just STOP with the alcohol? "Idon _wan'_to calmdown! Idon- An he_doesn'_loveme. He-henever loved'meh. HEhe..he_hates_me an he left-mealone for over ACENTURY! A-a-Century! AN-ANth' onlyperson I had t'turn towas Scotland!—Scotty! –Anhehatesm'too."

Okay, that was it, Spain wasn't getting anywhere and he knew it. Time to try a new approach.

He grabbed the bottle, this time throwing it into the trash can next to the table. "_Inglaterra, _stop this! _América _loves you! Now, go out there, and confess! As much as I like to see you in pain here, it aches when there's someone out there… who… loves… you, but doesn't want to admit it." Okay—maybe he shouldn't have said anything about enjoying seeing the Brit in pain, though it was indeed quite amusing, but it was too late to take it back now.

But what was even **more **amusing was the look on England's face after he said it. "Shaddup! Idon'haveanythin'te confess. An-stop sayin'that! 'Mericahatesme and you know'it! And I-knew! Iknew you didn'care, y'jus like seein'meh in pain. I—I HATEyeh, and Ihate tha'Frenchbastard, an'Merica. Ihate_all_of'yeh."

Yeah, now Spain was REALLY confused. First of all- how did he even manage to get drunk so fast anyway? And why is it that he was just _now_ wondering that? Secondly- what exactly was going on? Does _Inglaterra_ really have no idea what he was referring to? Was he just playing dumb? WHAT'S GOING ON?

Trying to shrug it off, Spain smiled fakely, and continued, "Ahaha, _Inglaterra, _as much as I 'love' to see you in this much pain, this pain just _isn't _worth it. Just go… and get _América, si?_" He stiffly patted him on the shoulders, hoping that what he was attempting would solve, or at least _help _something.

"No! Idon- Idon haveanyre'son toget'dat—thatbloodyGIT. He'donly jus… laugh an, makefun of'meh 'f'I did. 'Speciallywith… withgoin'over der'f'NOreason. Ijus—Ijus…" Of course he would say that. There was no way that this was going to be easy, not in the _slightest_.

"_Ahaha, mi amigo- _Don't be too hard on yourself. Sure, _América _might question you, but… but just say you're on a visit, _si~? _Don't be tsundere like you normally are~"

"Shuddap. Idon-Idon wan'to go over'ther, Th-ther's noreas'n f'me t'go. An I'M NOT tsu-tsu.. tsunder..," the English nation scooted until he reached the other end of the couch, as far as he could get away from Spain before he would fall to the floor.

The Spaniard smirked, and scooted closer to him regardless. "Tsundere? …Of course not. But anyways, just GO over there. If not, I'll force you."

England could tell from Spain's expression when he said that that he was being completely serious, but despite that, he was still negligent. "No. AnyouCAN'T.. can't forc'm'to. B-because IdonWANT'to… an—an… there's_no_reason for meh'too…"

Clearly, the Spaniard wasn't getting anywhere here. Again, it was time for him to change approaches. He grabbed England's wrists and looked him straight in the eye. "_Inglaterra, _this isn't going to go anywhere if you continue to act that way. We **will **go to the house, **now**, and you **will** tell him~ AND YOU WILL GET FREE TOMATOES, _SI?"_

"Wha-? No, Idon'wan'to go! An-an what'm I s'posed to tell'im? Idon'have any'thin'to tell'im. An, whywould'I want'yourFUCKINGtomatoes? Idon'even LIKE tom-atoes!"

Okay, that was it. There was no way he was going to let the other nation out of this now, **especially** now that he had insulted his wonderful tomatoes. Spain grabbed a fistful of England's shirt and dragged the nation off the couch, and out the front door. "You. Me. Out. Now."

Of course, the Brit would never level without a fight. And as such, he grabbed onto the door handle as tightly as he could, determined not to let go. "Hey! I said'mnot-! 'Mnotgoin'!"

But the Spaniard was already ticked off, and the conquistador that had hidden itself inside him for centuries had come out with his anger; he harshly yanked the Englishman's hand off of the doorknob. "Shut up, _puto_. We're going. You're going to like it."

England flinched and the pain that remained after his hand was basically ripped off the door handle—or at least it felt like it had been. Spain was clearly insistent on making him go to America, but he wouldn't do that—he couldn't do that, not if he wanted to stay in an at least partially reserved manner; not that he realized that he had already failed at that, still being relatively drunk and all.

"Oy-Ow!" he shouted; Spain had begun leading him to the car in a particularly harsh manner, twisting his arm-and thus his wrist, in a way that it was not supposed to go. "'Ey'ey'ey'ey Spain-lemme go! Ow… fffgo'dammit Antonio!"

The Spaniard visibly cringed when the Brit's foot connected **hard **with his shin. But despite this he remained steady and continued to drag him until they reached the car. Where he forcibly shoved him into the front seat, and slammed the door.

"We're going to _la casa de América_, and you're going to like it!"

And with that, Spain jumped into the driver's seat and began buckling England and his seat belt's.

"Ugh… I'lready **told **you. I don'want togo. He'sjust-he'sjust gonna… gonna reject'me.. again…"

Spain stopped a moment before turning on the car, "_…Que? _Again? He's rejected you before-?"

He only got a glimpse of the English nation's face before he leaned over and put his face in his knees, arms crossed underneath his legs. He stifled a sob before speaking up, "Jus… just shutup. Youdon'ow anythin'. I donwannahear it..."

At that moment, the Spaniard's expression softened immensely, but luckily the Brit still had his head in his knees, and he didn't see the dramatic change. Spain put his hand on England's back, rubbing it softly, "If it's okay with you, you can… tell me about it. I know we had conflicts over the past centuries, but you can tell… me."

The Englishman groaned, he didn't want to deal with this right now, and though slowly, he could tell that the alcohol was starting to wear off. "It… 'doesn matter. Is'done, overwith. Hedoesn want anythin' to do withme… anymore."

Spain sighed and put the car into drive before proceeding to drive to the airpot. "Well, I was trying to help, you know…"

"Yeah… Thaslikely… God, just drivem'ack to m'house. I don'twant'deal with this…" he sighed.

"You have to, _Inglaterra."_

The rest of the ride to the airport was relatively silent, the only noise passing between the two nations being the sound of their breaths, and a sigh or two, here and there. By the time that they had finally reached the airport parking lot, England had almost fallen asleep, stress of the day and the alcohol taking a hold of him. At the sound of the car door slamming, he started, and was wide awake when Spain opened the door next to him. Soon enough, England was unbuckled and being dragged out of the car.

"We're leaving right now."

"No!" England shouted. He almost completely sober now, and with his clearer head could think more clearly, and every instinct within him said NO. He also was now able to muster up the strength to resist the Spaniard, grabbing the car door. "Iam NOT going. And we are doing NOSUCHTHING- I… I am NOT going all the way ACROSS THE OCEAN to that bloody git!"

Spain grunted. This was going to be a lot harder than it was before, now that he was sobering up. But he didn't care, he was determined to get England over to America. Spain grabbed his wrist, and again pried his hand off the car door handle, and continued walking towards the airport entrance.

"_Inglaterra! _Just, come on!"

Alright, there goes the rest of the liquor, and now he was really pissed. "I **told **you! I am _not _going anywhere!", England yanked his arm away from the other nation, "And I don't know **why **you're being so… insistent about this! But I am NOT going!"

And with that the Brit turned on his heel and walked quickly in the other direction, towards the car.

But Spain wasn't giving up like this, he had come too far for it to just end, with England having learned anything; about himself or America. So Spain did the only thing he could think of, tackle England in the parking lot.

The two fell to the ground, Spain on top, maneuvering them so that England was looking up at him, and he was pinning the other to the ground. "Look! I **know **the feeling of unrequited love, but THIS is not how to solve !"

England just looked up at Spain, eyes blaring. He had nearly made it to the car before being tackled; he could probably kick the trunk if he tried hard enough. And he was** not **going to be confined right now, especially not by **Spain.** Using some of his legs muscles but mainly his hip, the Brit hoisted Spain up and rolled both of them over until he was the one on top.

"Oh really?" he spat into Spain's face, "Who says? Maybe it is! I'm not entirely inclined to listen to anything you have to say! And how are you expecting **me **of all people to believe** you**!"

Luckily, the Spaniard remembered from their pirating days that there was no way he was going to get out of this position, especially with the Englishman being so tensed up, before trying, otherwise he might've found himself with a couple of broken bones. But he also knew that though he couldn't physically fight back, he could still use his words.

"_Inglaterra, _I KNOW how this feels! Trust me, even I had some hardships with Romano. But still, you have to at LEAST try something…"

"Yes, fine! You had hardships with Romano. But at least you had a **chance**, I don't even have _that! _He rejected me, nearly crushing my heart, and he doesn't even understand what he did! He doesn't get any hints that I drop him, he's always insulting me and I just take it. And you say I'm not _trying? _Excuse me if I just don't want to deal with this anymore! I think I've suffered enough!"

The Spaniard sighed; he didn't really know anything, did he? "Look, _Inglaterra. _It was HARD for Romano to give me a chance. He was constantly throwing me away, and ignoring me. I've confessed to him many, many times. And he still wouldn't say anything to me. After one day, I told him that if he didn't love me back, then that's fine, and I won't ever leave him. You see, Romano has abandonment issues. So does America, if you haven't noticed."

England froze. Wait… what? America has… abandonment issues? But why would…? No, wait. He didn't want the answer to that. Not if—not if it was his fault. But it couldn't be—right? After all, America was… America was the one who—who left **him**, who abandoned **him**. So he wouldn't—

He finally managed to find his voice, and choked out a response, "America has-… But, why would he—I mean, he never… but…" Spain could feel England's entire body start shaking; trembling. "He… he… what? How is that even—But… Nothing like that ever…"

Spain sighed, putting his hand over England's shaking one, "_Si, Inglaterra—_It's the truth. Have you seen the way he looks at you? I remember, during his colonial days, oh, _Dios, Inglaterra. _The way that kid just, put up with you just… just leaving him sometimes. He knew that you had to go to your home country, but he felt a lot of pain. Just like Romano."

England just looked at him, tears gathering in his eyes; he dared not let them fall. "But—he didn't. He hadn't ever… And I didn't—I couldn't tell- …I didn't notice… Why couldn't I tell? I… I should've… Should've noticed…"

"During that time, you were too busy to realize his little, pent-up emotions. He used to take it out on trees, trust me. I never knew that America had SUCH strength at that age. Anyways, it was terrible on his part."

England choked; he was no longer even trying to hold the Spaniard down, he was too shaken to even notice. "But… I still should've… I should've noticed and I… It was my fault? …All of this was my fault? But… but what about the Revolution—That was because… because I wasn't paying enough attention?-B-Because I wasn't there…? How does that justify—justify him leaving? What… What's going on? I don't know anything-I really don't, and I thought… I thought that… What…?"

He couldn't even try to hold back his tears now, and he was too distressed and confused to care anymore, soon enough, England was sobbing into the Spaniards shirt, stifling a cry.

This wasn't good. Spain wasn't just about to let England be humiliated, crying in the parking lot for everyone to see. Gently he pushed the shocked Brit off of him before picking him up and putting him in the back of the car. It would be better here, now that they both weren't out in the open.

But the Englishman was still shaking, fiercely at that, and that wasn't a good sign. "It's okay, just… just let it all out," he pulled the other into a hug from behind, "It's gonna be okay. He loves you, _Inglaterra. _He really does. Don't be so hard on yourself, all he wanted was someone to love him."

"H-he… he never… he just didn't and I… W-what? I-I don't… I don't know anything… I never knew—and I thought I did… W-Why…?" He was starting to hyperventilate, also not a good sign.

Spain pulled England closer, wrapping his arms around him; England didn't fight back, and he couldn't tell whether or not that was a good thing. "_Esta bien, esta bien. _You did the best you could for him. But you've gotta understand that he felt lonely when you were overseas. You did the best you could, _Inglaterra. _Don't be so hard on yourself.

Another choked sob. "B-but… I still don't… and then… God my head…" he pulled at his hair, "Why is this… why now? Why couldn't I have learned sooner… And then… Then he wouldn't… Wouldn't hate me now…"

The Spanish nation sighed, after all of this; they were still back at that…? "We all go through it at least once. Either we're the victim, or victimizer. I'm still pretty upset about my colonies leaving me… But it's okay…"

"I really… really, REALLY didn't need… this…" England's words gradually got quieter until he became completely silent, suddenly going limp in Spain's arms.

Spain almost freaked out, until he saw England's peaceful expression, eyes closed.

'_Oh… so he just fell asleep…' _He hugged the other closer, closing his eyes as well.

"I know _Inglaterra, _I know…"

* * *

><p>And there we go~! I hope to let you all know that this is probably the closest I will <strong>ever<strong> get to a SpUK fanfic... or probably much anything other than USUK. And I apologize for it being so dialogue-centric, this actually started off as a roleplay between me and a friend~ Halfway through I decided I wanted to make it into a full-out fanfiction. So I did~!

I hope it doesn't suck _too _badly. As I can definitely point out some points that I just look at and go... ugh... =3= (More than... y'know, I do to the fic itself as a whole) It seemed like the longer it went the crappier it got x.x But at least it is longer than 2 pages~! Which is more than I could say before.

I could probably ramble on forever, but I should probably put this up before my friend (whom I mentioned before) kills me for not having uploaded it yet! xD

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Hetalia or any of it's characters! All credits go to Hidekaz Himaruya.**


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